


Bento Days

by Fishwrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Children, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, Kindergarten, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Shiro Tries His Best, Single Parents, Single dad Shiro, Toddlers, Uncle Hunk, but that man cannot cook, toddler Keith, toddler Lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishwrites/pseuds/Fishwrites
Summary: Shiro is a single dad, trying to do the best by Keith. This meant moving across the country, a new neighbourhood, new house, and unfamiliar appliances which Shiro had to re-master with his prosthetic. There will also be a new Kindergarten. (in which Shiro is a work-from-home single dad recovering from serious injury, Keith is a surprisingly mature toddler most days, Lance is also a toddler and Hunk is a pastry chef who saves all of the aforementioned from starving).





	

_“Always hold your head up,_  
but keep your nose at a friendly level.”  
– Max Forman

* * *

 

 

Keith could tell his dad was nervous.

His dad always stirred his drink too much when he was nervous – spoon going _clink clink clink_ in the quiet morning hum of the fridge. Keith ate his breakfast, eyeing the strawberry pieces in his oatmeal carefully. He wondered if he could just eat all the nice bits and say he was full. This usually never worked on  dad, but a five year old must take any opportunities that came his way. There weren’t many, when you were five.

Keith took another careful spoonful, and counted while he chewed.

Dad was taking Keith’s bento box out of his backpack again; opening the lid to check on the contents and adding more toppings. The box was bulging at the hinges. Maybe Keith could make friends by bribing them with food?

“You like ham, right buddy?” said Shiro.

“Yep,” said  Keith.

“And tomatoes?” said Shiro, “I also put a scrambled egg in. Your favourite. With sesame.”

“Mmhm,” said Keith, swinging his legs in his high chair. He fished out the last of the strawberry chunks (he had already eaten all the blueberries) and put his spoon down.

“Full,” he said, hopefully.

For once, dad didn’t insist on him finishing – and this was how Keith knew dad was _really_ nervous. So stupid. It wasn’t like _dad_ was the one going to a new  kindy. _He_ didn’t have to try make new friends, or dodge sticky people who couldn’t eat with their mouth closed.  Dad was going to stay inside and draw houses all day. There was definitely nothing nerve wracking about drawing houses, thought Keith. He couldn’t wait to be as old asdad. No more kindy for him, then.

Shiro wiped his mouth clean with a napkin and then hoisted Keith from the stool (even though Keith wasn’t a baby anymore and could totally jump). Keith held onto dad’s collar as he put the bento back into the backpack (along with a jacket, spare socks, Keith’s nap blanket, a water bottle and a phone for _emergencies_.) After a pause,  Shiro reached up to the snack cupboard and put in a packet of chocolate biscuits too.

Keith wriggled to look into his bag, trying not to look too pleased.

“Okay,” dad was muttering, “Keys. Wallet. Induction form. ID. Phone. Okay. Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, stuffing said phone into his jean pocket before grabbing Keith’s backpack.

“ _Dad ,_” said Keith, admonishing, “We gon be late!”

“Right. Right!” said Shiro. He gave Keith a quick kiss on the cheek as he opened the door, and they were half way to the car before Keith piped up again.

“Dad?”

Shiro was dumping Keith’s bag in the back seat.

“Yeah?” he said.

“You forgot my shoes.”

Keith wriggled his socked feet against dad’s hip for emphasis. Shiro stared at them for a long moment, and Keith thought maybe he had turned into a tree or something. He poked Shiro in the cheek with one finger.

“They go on my feet,” he said, helpfully.

“Oh _jesus,_ ” said dad, “Sorry buddy, dad is really – wait here.”

He set Keith down in the back seat and then rushed off back to the house. He came back a moment later with Keith’s favourite red sneakers, crouching down so he could put them on. Keith watched, patiently.

“How are you feeling?” said dad, peering anxiously up at him, “Do you need the loo before we go?”

“ _No,”_ said Keith, bouncing up and down in his seat. “I already went! Twice!”

“Right,” said dad, buckling him in, “Well – okay. Well I guess we should head off?”

Keith shrugged.

Dad got into the front seat. Then he got out again to lock the front door. It was like dad had been replaced with an alien. Keith made a note to keep notes if this strange behaviour kept going. Maybe dad was just nervous because it was a new town. Keith was nervous. But Keith was also big now and so had to be brave. He stared at the laces on his sneakers.

* * *

 

The drive to the new Kindergarten only took about ten minutes, even with the traffic. Keith peered out of the window as they pulled up outside its gates. Most of the building was obscured by leafy trees, but Keith could hear children screeching and the splash of water. He hoped his lion backpack wouldn’t get wet.

Dad parked the car and came around the back.

Keith let him check over his double knotted laces, even though they were fine. He let himself be squeezed, very hard. He patted dad on the head.

“I’ll be around at three thirty to pick you up, okay?” said Shiro.

“Yeh,” said Keith patiently.

“I’ll probably get here a bit earlier, so don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay dad,” said Keith.

“I’ll park as close to the gate so you can see me. But don’t come outside by yourself – remember what I said about strangers.”

“If a stranger comes over, scream very loud, then run away or kick him in between the legs and then jab him in the eye,” recited Keith dutifully. He wondered if his fellow kindergarteners counted as ‘strangers.’ He got into trouble for kicking a bully at his old kindy, so Keith would have to be sneaky about it if push came to shove. He gripped the straps of his back pack very tightly.

Dad laughed, but he also sniffled. He  drew Keith close again, so that all Keith could see was the soft worn fabric of dad’s shirt. Dad smelled like coffee and their shampoo and the strawberries he had been cutting up for Keith that morning.

“Well okay,” said Shiro, smoothing back Keith’s hair with his hand – the normal hand, not the super hero one, “let’s go in and meet your teacher.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ‘teacher’ turned out to be a man with orange hair and a weird moustache. He had a strong accent and talked with his hands. He was _loud_. Keith hid behind  Shiro’s legs as his dad did the boring paper work stuff and they were led to Keith’s cubby hole. There was already a bag in the cubby hole next door: it was blue and had stickers and buttons all over it. Keith thought he could smell cheese.

He put his lion backpack as far in the corner away from his neighbour as possible.

“No worries, no worries,” his teacher – ‘Coran’ – was saying, “I’m sure he’ll settle in just fine. We have sing along first thing in the morning, you know! And then we eat play-doh together.”

“Uh…” said dad, looking panicked and wide eyed, “Are you – I don’t think that’s hygienic…?”

Coran was waving his hand in a dismissive flapping motion.

“No one has ever died from eating play-doh,” he said, “Not my special recipe. Why, I grew up eating it myself!”

“…oh,” said Shiro, appearing as if he wanted to object further but was held back by his own stringent standards of politeness. “Um. I guess.”

“And _you,”_ said Coran, crouching down so quickly and dramatically Keith yelped and almost tripped over dad’s legs, “You must be Keith. Aye? How about a pirate’s hand shake.”

He held out a hand.

Keith stared at it.

As it turned out, Coran’s pirate hand shake just involved a lot of clapping and punching the air. Keith highly doubted that it was how real pirates shook hands, but he politely refrained from correcting him.

They were interrupted by a shriek outside and then something thumped hard on the classroom window. Keith clung to Shiro’s left leg.

“Righto,” said Coran, “All parents are banished from this room until home time, barring emergencies. I can see little Keith here has barnacle issues, eh? C’mon lad, I’m sure your dad has work to be doing.”

He leaned close to Shiro conspiratorially, as if Keith couldn’t still hear them.

“Glad to get the little buggers out of the house, I bet. Don’t worry, he’s in safe hands.”

Shiro was looking less and less convinced by the minute – but he was indeed the only parent in the room: everyone else seemed to be being dropped off in the yard. A few of the children were being herded inside , and Keith shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Dad bent down to give him one last hug.

“Have fun buddy,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “and don’t forget to drink your water okay?”

“ _Dad ,”_ said Keith, feeling a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t a baby, but now everyone was going to think he was the worst. Eventually dad let himself be led away by Coran. Keith watched discreetly from the classroom window. When dad got to the gate, he paused, hands in pockets. He spotted Keith in the window and gave a little wave.

Keith scowled and made shooing motions with his hands.

Shiro laughed, rubbing his eyes again, before disappearing around the fence of trees. Keith looked back to the class which was filling with people he didn’t know. He took a deep breath. He could definitely smell cheese.

Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Everything was _not_ fine.

**Author's Note:**

> originally I wasn't going to post this until I had written more, but I thought given the recent events, we all need a bit of fluff to cheer us up. Please let me know what you think!! <3 <3 and I hope you feel a bit warmer and fuzzier.


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